Wasteland
by Jynx'sbox
Summary: Three pages isn't really enough to tell us about a person. Different Edgars and how he interacts with Johnny and others. Slash sometimes but not always.
1. Wasteland

Author's Note: PLEASE READ cause I'll only say it once.

These chapters have nothing to do with each other unless I say they do. The next chapter is not the continuation of this one. Sorry but these are going to be for the most part one-shots and drabbles.

One-Shot: Story ideas, plot bunnies that either won't work or are over done, written to get out of my mind, more than 100 words.

Drabbles: Plot bunnies or ideas that are either calling to nothing but the comic and interpretation or to the work of others. All references to ideas or situations written somewhere else will be credited at the beginning of the chapter, otherwise it doesn't call to it. And by that I mean that particular story wasn't in my mind when I wrote it. Always written in less than 100 words.

If a song title is the story title then that was the song that helped push the idea into actual words or sets the mood of the chapter.

I do not own JTHM or any of the characters purged from the vagina that is J.V.'s mind. Sorry.

Please enjoy the first chapter of this drabble/one-shot series.

X

Chapter One

Wasteland

"I never took you for a drinker." He'd stumbled out of some bar on some street he couldn't recall the name of to come face to face with the last person he needed to see at that point. Edgar was sure Johnny wasn't supposed to be standing at such an odd angle.

"I'm not." He looked down at his hand and nearly toppled over. "At least," He grabbed the wall, scraping his knuckles on the brickwork. "not that I can ever remember being." When he glanced up again Nny was giving him an odd look. His stance was slightly defensive, hands curled into fists and shoulders hunched slightly. Not wanting him to think he was about to fly into a drunken rage Edgar slid down the wall to dissolve into an alcoholic pool at the foot of some bar on some street he couldn't really . . .

"You look like shit when you drink."

"You've never seen me drink before."

"I'm seeing you now." He laughed and Nny just stared.

"I feel like shit too, guess that's why I can never remember drinking so much."

He sat there for a long time just staring at the building across the street. He knew Johnny was still there, even if he shouldn't have been. He should have walked off by now, should have . . .

Johnny should have done a lot of things.

"What are you doing in this part of town so late at night?" A stupid question because the other man went to a lot of places in the darker hours to do things that drove Edgar to drink until he couldn't walk straight. He'd never admit to Johnny that this wasn't his first time getting shitfaced since he'd been let go.

"I was going to meet someone."

"Who?" But before the other answered Edgar got stepped on, not by Johnny but by a two guys on their way into the bar. They laughed when he clutched at his leg. "Shit! Watch where you're going."

"Maybe you shouldn't sit in the middle of the sidewalk." A hand grabbing him by the shoulder, by his shirt and the fingers brushing him through the fabric . . .

He shook his head as Johnny pulled him up and started dragging him down the street. They walked for awhile, Edgar stumbling from time to time and his friend only barely keeping him from face-planting to the ground.

"So, who're you meeting?" He slurred in an attempt to start conversation. He got no actual answer.

They stopped in front of a small all-night diner. Inside at least ten night owls ambled about, talking and laughing with each other. It took him a few minutes to realize that Johnny had gone in. He walked over to a table occupied by a girl with what looked to be purple hair. They talked for so long that Edgar thought maybe he should try to find his way home when Nny gestured towards him and the girl looked over. Feeling weird for staring Edgar turned and started walking down the street, away from the window.

As if on cue he heard the jingle of the café door and the click of Nny's shoes on the pavement.

"You're going to walk head first into traffic, dumb ass."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your date. I'm not that far from here anyways, I can make it home alright." But that hand was on him again, its grip rigid and tight.

"You're a bullshit liar."

Nny had parked by the bar on the street Edgar couldn't recall the name of. It really wasn't that far away but the journey took twice as long as it should have with him stumbling around. Getting into the car with someone he knew was a deranged killer was not one of the smartest things he could have done but Edgar figured that walking down the street away from Johnny wouldn't have done him any better.

They were driving, Edgar giving quick directions from the passenger seat and Nny handling the old car with practiced ease.

"I'm sorry." He dazed from where he was slouched. "Who was she?" They were halfway there.

"I met her at the bookstore on East Fifth. She asked me out yesterday." Edgar nodded.

"She looked nice."

"She is."

"You going back?"

"No." He pulled into the parking lot, "It was a bad idea anyways. Where from here?"

"Turn right, it's building 17. Why was it bad?" He didn't answer, only parked in front of the tall apartment complex and shut off the engine.

Edgar had a feeling that trying to get out of the car right away was a bad idea.

"Nny?"

"Hmm?" He was lost in thought, staring through the windshield at the unkempt bushes that ran along the path towards the stairs.

"Thank you for the ride." Johnny looked up and over at him.

He supposed that it shouldn't have been so shocking. It wasn't too long ago that he'd been spared in a split decision that miraculously turned in his favor. The other man had his sporadic moments.

If by sporadic he meant crazy.

Two seconds passed of the silent and halfway drunken staring contest, maybe more he couldn't be too sure, when the engine roared to life. Johnny peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street. Had Edgar not still been in the car he'd have been worried for his friend's safety, especially when he nearly slammed into another driver. Had Edgar not been so wasted he might have also screamed. Instead everything lurched and he wondered if he would ever make it home okay.

The ride to wherever they were going was long and hellish to say the least.

"What the FUCK are you thanking me for?" The car swerved and Edgar scrambled to buckle the seat belt.

"Slow down!" And Johnny slammed on the brakes for three of the longest seconds of his life. Through the back window he could see a car about to barrel into them from behind. "Nny!"

The momentum kept them moving and he turned sharply down a street that wasn't so busy. The car still grazed the back bumper, its horn blaring but Edgar barely heard it through the blood pounding in his ears. He wasn't sure of what exactly happened after that, he only knew that they eventually pulled to a slow stop in front of Johnny's house. The other man's knuckles were pale, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

He didn't look at Edgar, didn't pay him any mind as he jerked the car door open and stepped out, not seeing his friend flinch when he slammed it shut again. Edgar could feel his asthma start to act up but after a few deep breathes he calmed down enough to think back. He tried to figure out exactly what had set Johnny off.

"_What the FUCK-?"_

The dashboard was dirty and worn but not disgusting, the leather seat underneath him torn in a few places but not uncomfortable. Unable to focus on what he might have done to piss Nny off he looked up towards the house to see the lights were on and the front door was slightly ajar.

_He wants me to come inside?_

Edgar hadn't been in his friend's home since the initial meeting. The thought of going back to that place scared the shit out of his inebriated mind.

_Holy shit fuck I think I'm gonna die . . ._

Staying outside or just going home wouldn't do any better for his health either. Johnny knew where he lived now.

Slowly he reached for the door handle. Still silently debating it he didn't notice Nny's silhouette pass the door long enough to see him nearly drop to the ground as he got out of the car.

It was really cold outside, more than he remembered it being earlier. He almost wished he'd brought a jacket with him. When he finally gathered the courage to walk up the door he noticed that the air coming from inside the house wasn't much warmer.

"Nny?" He shivered as he stepped inside. Johnny was sitting on the far left side of his couch staring through his hands and knees at the floor. Edgar wrapped his arms around himself. "How can you stand the cold?" Johnny opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He turned to look at the corner of the room farthest from the door. There, propped against the wall were a couple of strange, short figures.

"It's none of your God damn business why he's here so FUCK you!" He threw something heavy at the pig like Styrofoam dolls and whatever it was hit the wall above them, scraping the paint but falling harmlessly to lie nearby. "What the hell do you fuckers know about this shit anyways? And you!" He spun around to point a finger at Edgar, "Why the hell were you there at all?"

A little indignant at Johnny's attitude over the matter, his initial reaction would have been something like, 'None of YOUR damn business!' but his instinct to survive this horrible encounter kicked him in the ass and told him to choose his words carefully.

So he opted to say something intelligent but all his intoxicated brain could come up with was "Huh? Me?"

"Close the fucking door, Edgar."

"Oh." Weird, but then he guessed that the night had already been very strange.

"Why were you drinking?"

"Why does it matter?" He'd been drunk when Johnny had first found him leaving a neighbor's wedding. He hadn't had so much since he'd gotten rid of that one roommate in college who always had to have that last glass of whatever he'd concocted in the bathroom sink. That was probably his worse experience with alcohol. Never drink with a guy who can't clean anything and cooks his own stash.

"Answer the fucking question or walk your ass home."

"Are you implying that if I tell you you'll drive me? Because after that last performance I think it's a pretty crappy attempt at trying to get me to talk. I'd _rather_ walk home, thank you." Edgar didn't even finish processing the last words he spoke before he was slammed into the door. He hit the floor for the second time that night and this time when he looked up at Johnny he felt a sense of clarity that haunted him like a horrible ghost. As drunk as he remembered being he was completely sober when he woke up in that machine. "Why are you so angry?" Heavy breathing, eyes dilated and watching him with that look again. Edgar had a feeling that he just didn't understand when Johnny really wanted him to. And then suddenly he was being looked through.

"I don't know." And the familiarity perplexed and amused him. A tiny smile at the corner of his mouth and Edgar's sarcasm was turned into the entertainment he'd meant it to be. Road blocks were lifted in the drunken man's system and he allowed himself to be out of it again. Looking down he noticed a short blade loosely grasped in Johnny's right hand. Nothing was in his left hand but it seemed to come down from a position to grab at him. He wondered at it.

"Are you right-handed?" His friend didn't answer for a moment and Edgar didn't look up to see what was wrong.

"Yes." Most of the population, he rationalized as he reached for him, is right-handed. The other hand was scarred, marked by the nails and teeth of his victims in their last moments. As his right hand brought them down his left had held them still. How many people had ripped into his skin?

Nny was a marked man.

Tiny faded and tired crescents and scratches dotted his skinny wrist. There was one big scar from his forearm to his knuckle and as he traced it with his finger, so lost was he in his own thoughts of its origin Edgar didn't notice the looming danger.

Johnny was hardly aware of it when his drunken house guest had initially reached for him. When he felt and saw him grasp him by the wrist and touch the mark he'd gotten from the guy with a switchblade in his pocket, he'd been surprised that Edgar would have the fucking nerve to touch him at all.

"Where did this come from?" He wrote it off as alcoholic stupidity.

"A hitchhiker outside of town. I gave him a ride and he tried to rob me."

"Wow, you gave someone a ride," he grinned stupidly, "and _they_ tried to kill _you_." The skin of his forehead and his hair was pressing against Johnny's hand, his eyes were closed, and he was smiling like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Nny imagined bringing the knife down and pushing it into the other's back, watching that smile drop like a stone and those eyes spring open with the fear he almost longed to see but before he could actually do anything Edgar looked up at him.

"I don't know why that's so funny to me. I guess that's another reason I dislike drinking so much. Makes me act like an idiot." He looked over at the knife Nny had raised slightly, "I think it helps me pretend that there's nothing wrong with me for the way I am now. I think you did something to me."

Nny's grip on the knife tightened.

"Sometimes I think . . . that maybe you should have pulled the switch, Nny." He closed his eyes again, "I really do." He felt the other move and his fingers refused to let go of the skinny forearm they had a hold of, "My life wouldn't be so God damn complicated if you weren't around in the first place."

"I think if you want to walk out of here with all of your major organs you'd better let go."

"I wonder if any of the people _you've_ let go of manage to forget you."

"Of course they have."

"Do you know where I can find them? I'd like to take notes."

X

INFORMATION!

Challenge; Drunk!Edgar

Word count: 2368

Song: Wasteland by 10 Years

Long and drawn out way to say "I can't stop thinking of you."

What happens next? Does Edgar die? Do they kiss? Does Zim bust through the window and abduct them for horribly stupid experiments? Who knows because this is probably a one-shot!

Next installment: Iris, a drabble: 100 words


	2. Iris

Chapter Two

Iris

Maybe it was stupid to think he'd have been different. Maybe staying when he should have left was dumb.

"Tell me."

"I love you." A rare touch, fingertips grazing his cheek for one moment or maybe two.

"Yes."

Dark, quiet, but home and right and faultless because all he needed was to feel that at least for this one moment he was Nny's perfection. Edgar had never been perfect before.

Johnny wouldn't die with him but _he_ would die for Johnny. To be a wonderful memory, even if Edgar never did fix him, was a lot to ask for anyways.

X

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INFORMATION

Smart!Edgar

Word count: 100

Song: Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

Drabble!Edgar isn't stupid, guys. Love makes the smartest people act like idiots. He's smart enough to see Johnny for who and what he is but can't, or won't, help himself or his situation.

_When everything's made to be broken_

_I just want you to know who I am_


	3. Zombie

Chapter Three

Zombie

Sometimes when the house got a little too quiet, when Reverend Meat allowed him time for his own thoughts he would listen for the people who stuck around long after they should have gone. Tiny tidbits and voices from the past, a foster mother of six, that man from GoodlyWill and the guy who said he didn't need to worry.

He liked to pretend that they stayed because they actually wanted someone like him for a friend. The woman would sometimes get frantic about her kids, he wouldn't hear from her as often as he liked and she would scold him sometimes for the things he did but Nny supposed it was just in her nature to do so. Kids were fucking hellions when they wanted to do something.

The older man from that charity place spoke softly to him, his voice crackly like dry paper. They had the most entertaining talks, especially when Johnny's thoughts came in crazy colors and words. This person indulged in his rants and fits often providing his own bitter ammunition to fuel the fire. He was fading faster than the others though. Nny had to strain his ear to hear him at all these days.

The last voice was the loudest of the three being the most recent addition. He had mixed feelings about this person and the things they talked about because this voice wouldn't baby his ideas or completely agree with him. They argued a lot, more yelling on his side than the other.

"_There's something almost pathetic about you when you're like this."_

And then there was that, those little interjections that came at the most random moments. They were almost too quick for him to catch. When he would turn to look at the source he would be granted a brief glance of a man who was close to him in age possibly. Sometimes what he saw was grotesque and horrible, others he was as close to alive as a dead man can be.

But then the voice and man behind it was gone, in and out like the flash of a camera. Screaming at empty rooms had never done anything outside of scare his neighbors.

The others were fading, old GoodlyWill being the first to go followed shortly by Mrs. Foster. Johnny couldn't tell if Edgar was coming or going. He talked less and less but the image of him haunted Nny longer and longer.

He wondered if eventually the dead man would wander the house completely speechless, scaring the shit out of everyone who saw him because all of the people Johnny kept in the basement could see Edgar Vargas as well as Johnny himself.

One second he was just a friend, mostly alive except for the unnatural texture of his skin and the listless look in his eyes often hindered by his glasses. The next he was a body of red lines and falling pieces held together by pure will power.

"_Do you think that this is God's way of punishing me for being stupid enough to get caught by you?"_

"What the hell is that supposed to mean."

"_Forget it. This is probably more your punishment than mine anyway."_

"Asshole."

"_Dickweed."_

And the smile on Edgar's mostly normal face was comforting because he was _almost_ sure that his friend was just joking and even if he wasn't Nny couldn't kill someone more than once. He had tried several times and the noise Edgar made about it afterwards just wasn't worth it.

X

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INFORMATION!

Challenge: Dead!Edgar

Word Count: 590

Song: Zombie by The Cranberries

I really dislike writing from Edgar's point of view so this was a lot more fun to do than the last two chapters. I might just continue on in Johnny's POV because I think the stories will make more sense that way. Edgar's too fucking normal, or maybe not. I don't know.


	4. Duvet

Chapter Four

Duvet

"So, no heaven for you?"

"Actually, I'm just visiting down here for awhile. I'd stick around up there but I have to admit that heaven's not exactly what I thought it would be." Johnny was really surprised that he even recognized Edgar when he saw him wandering in his direction, eyes glancing at every building he passed.

"Glad you get to bliss around a dump like that for the rest of eternity?" Nny asked, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable. The 'religious' man smiled ruefully at his damned counterpart before speaking.

"Glad your actions got you to this proverbial mind _dump_ of a hell?" Johnny pulled at the security anklet that kept him tethered to the sidewalk as his punishment. God, how he itched for a paperclip and some duck tape.

"Got any office supplies with you?" Edgar's smile quirked into a confused half grin and he glanced around for a moment.

"No." Damn.

"Well you're quite useless."

"Thank you?"

"Not a complement."

"I figured as much. So what's with the ankle bracelet?"

"Keeps me here to be mocked by the general population, unable to retaliate. Some Asswipe up in heaven thought it might teach me some manners or some shit like that. I could give a fuck either way. These people are too busy trying to get in good with that giant eyeball up there to notice."

"That sucks," Edgar shifted from one foot to another, "the being chained part, I mean."

"They'll let me go eventually."

"What do you do to entertain yourself?"

"Tell people as they're walking by that they have dirt on their shoes or that their hair is falling flat and watch them stumble into traffic."

"Wreaking havoc without even having to touch anyone," Edgar glanced at some people snickering at the two of them as they went by, "I think that's a new record for you, Nny."

"Wanna watch?" Something deep inside of Edgar told him that it might be a horrible thing to do but he rationalized that they were all damned anyways. Johnny grinned when the other man moved to lean against the wall next to him.

"Why not, I think I've got plenty of time to burn."

X

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Challenge: Heaven!Edgar and Hell!Edgar (Two in one!)

Word Count: 358

Song: Duvet by Boa, cyberia remix

Let's all fix our hair while being crushed by an eight wheeler!


	5. Youth

Chapter Five

Youth of the Nation

He hardly noticed the screams until he rounded the corner and someone slammed into his chest, a friend they later told him.

In those two seconds after the loud crack and boom he only saw those eyes and didn't recognize who he was looking at. When he looked down the barrel of the gun was red and he couldn't comprehend why. The hand that had grabbed him in surprise let go and he dropped like a stone.

And now eight years later looking down at another stranger, his life on the line, what _could_ he have possibly done to prevent this?

X

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Challenge: Dying!Edgar and Highschool!Edgar (two again. I'm just cutting corners now, it fits though)

YES, Edgar is a pimp, he has a bullet wound and raps about how krunk it is to be a player. He's so dope I should add GANGSTA!Edgar to the description above, Yo!

Word Count: 100

Song: Youth of the Nation by POD

Not really slash but Edgarcentric. School shootings are terrible ordeals.


	6. You Fight Me

Chapter Six

You Fight Me

_'I don't think there is a way to know a person when you first meet them. Edgar says I'm a prime example of that.'_

Nny was sitting in a bathtub washing blood from his skin that was not his own. He needed to be clean, needed to scrub the dirt and filth of the outside world from his body if he wanted to walk around the house that didn't belong to him.

Edgar walked in and dropped something on the toilet seat. Without even glancing at Johnny, who brought his knees up to his chest to hide himself, he walked out two seconds later. He never looked but that didn't stop Nny from hating it when he did that.

He didn't talk to the voices anymore, like Edgar told him, and they eventually quieted, just like Edgar said they would. He hadn't been back to the house in several weeks and his trips out of his new home were becoming less frequent. Nothing was stopping him from leaving and Edgar didn't say anything when he did but he had a feeling that eventually something was going to break and he didn't want to be locked out one night.

They fought a lot, not about the killing or anything of that nature, but about stupid things. Where's this and I put it there and it's not there and why are you doing this and . . .

He'd attacked Edgar on several occasions, something sharp in hand and a gleam in his eye. Edgar would meet his stare and silently dare him to go through with it. He hated himself for backing down and not backing away. The weapon would be tossed aside and he would lean forward against this man with a loathing tugging so hard at his chest that it was impossible to breathe.

Never too much touching, just enough to move them up and to sit Johnny on the couch with a snide smirk when he thought his crazy boyfriend wasn't looking, fingers barely gripping his arms because Nny didn't really like to be touched.

Control wasn't with him here but he was desperate to keep whatever Edgar gave him. Killings were becoming less frequent and there was a comforting silence in his head that only broke on the occasion when he wanted to go back in time and tear this man into pieces.

He was never forced to do anything but he was a slave all the same. Edgar had given him something that was making him work again and he'd do anything to keep it. It still burned him inside somewhere when the other man's simple requests were completed without a second thought.

"Could you pick up your clothes from the floor, please?"

"Would you close the door when you're done?"

"Turn off the light?" A glance in his direction as he left the room.

"Grab that for me, will you?"

"Could you wash your hands before you sit?" turning and doing it without thinking and then turning back to see that horrible smile on his face, the one that said 'look what I can make the big bad villain do.'

X

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Challenge: Evil!Edgar (Bwahhahahahahahahahhahahahhhahahahah!)

Word Count: 554

Song: You Fight Me by Breaking Benjamin

Nny's definitely out of character in this one but hey, he got what he wanted. Now he's just like all of the other weaklings in the world. He got fixed. I love Evil!Edgar so much. Everyone, including myself, sees him as some sort of fucking saint and portraying him as a subtle yet sadistic bastard was a treat! I could see someone like this figuring Johnny out, someone who isn't evil in a big way but manipulates people to do as he likes without really hurting them physically or even emotionally. He takes advantage at a psychological level. Simple, mindless favors and requests while respecting Johnny's boundaries. I mean what can Johnny really complain about? He asked him to wash his hands for God's sake. You know you're evil when you can turn something that mundane into a form of toture.

Damn, these one shots are getting shorter and shorter!


	7. Headlock

A/N: Who says wearing glasses means you're smart. Who the fuck says?

Chapter Seven

Headlock

He was in danger of failing his Precal class again. If it weren't for his coach pitifully moaning in the staff room about how the team needed Edgar and couldn't continue the season without him he was sure he'd be failing a majority of his courses. If their backup goalie wasn't shit he wouldn't have to worry so much _period_.

He was about to sacrifice his high school transcript to play soccer with a bunch of guys who would probably make his life a living hell if he decided in the end to quit the team to save his grades. Some teammates he had. And now he had to miss one practice a week to attend a remedial math class. He'd done fine in geometry and algebra but calculus, even in "PRE" form eluded him.

Life would be so much better once he'd graduated, if he graduated. At this point he just wasn't sure.

Edgar slinked quietly into a steadily filling room. It seemed he wasn't the only having problems (thank God almighty). He found a seat a few tables from the door and watched as a five other people of completely different types chose to sit with him at his little round table. As it seemed it would be awhile before the teacher came in, everyone was talking casually as if used to the teacher's tardiness, Edgar moved his bag to the floor and leaned forward to rest his head in his arms.

Ugh, he should have put his glasses on before coming in. His contacts were already itching.

[]

The next week he had the class no one sat next to him. There used to be this common misconception that he was smart, popular, and athletic, but now that everyone could see his being in the class was not a fluke he'd been reduced to the title dumb jock and was promptly exiled. It felt more than a little unfair to be honest.

But it was to be expected. He played a sport and was really good at it. Jock. People generally liked him. Popular. He wore glasses for the most part. Smart. Wait, wait. Scratch that last one. Edgar's just a dumb Jock. With impaired vision apparently.

He didn't really look the part, in his own opinion. He had his own prejudices, he could admit it. He always saw a certain Football Quarterback in his head when he visualized the term "Dumb Jock", not a Soccer Goalie, _never_ a Soccer Goalie. That and he'd honestly never considered himself to be an idiot.

But to his classmates there were no differences in type of sport played. What judgmental assholes.

They didn't mind that said Quarterback was currently making an _ass_ of himself drawing profane images on the teacher's chalkboard. It was funny to them so he was cool. Hypocritical dickfaces.

Edgar had a tiny moment of clarity in which he wondered if maybe he should pick better friends, quit the team and start doing extra credit so he could get into a good college based on the smarts he knew he had somewhere in his head. But he loved soccer and his real friends weren't so bad. He knew that for the most part they'd be pissed but would grudgingly understand if he had to leave for his own benefit.

Who was he kidding?

Predictably the teacher had a fuss over the lewd and naked women on the board and demanded to know who had drawn them. No one said a word and the entire room got detention. Just great. One more thing for the team to get pissed at him over.

[]

Detention was where the trouble started. He walked in with the few remedial students who had decided not to serve their detention at lunch (he had make-up goalie practice they wouldn't let him skip anymore) and took a seat at the round table closest to the door. The P.E. teacher in charge told them to sit down and shut up, which he did. He passed the time keeping his head tucked in the folds of his arms feigning sleep. When they were allowed to leave he sat up and realized he hadn't been alone at the table.

The guy, Johnny he found out later, stared at him blankly for a few seconds before pushing away from the chair across from Edgar and leaving the room and him in shock. Of what he had no clue.

He'd never seen him before but after the initial "meeting" or lack thereof he started seeing him everywhere. In the Library, computer room, and even in several of his classes. Had he really been so focused on struggling in his studies and prepping for soccer season that he didn't notice this one person he passed on a daily basis, even sat a few desks away from in English?

They guy didn't even look like someone your eyes just passed over. He was so . . . so . . . what was a good word for it? Odd? Weird?

No that made him sound disfigured. There had to be a better way to word it.

_Distinctive_.

Noticeable in a negative way if the attention he got was anything to go by. People stared at Johnny all the time, he didn't seem to have many friends.

He saw him under the bleachers a lot when the smokers weren't there. He was always writing in this notebook. Edgar wondered about it sometimes. He also wondered why he wondered about it at all. The guy was probably doing homework or something.

Come to think of it, he was sure the guy wouldn't appreciate being stared at by some dumb jock for an hour and a half anyways. What the hell was Edgar doing?

Why was it such a big deal?

Was he spiraling out of control? He began to realize that he was actively _looking_ for this guy now. Like he wanted to find all of the dusty corners and isolated spots he would hide in throughout the day. Maybe he was wigging out or something.

Their first bout of communication happened a month later after Edgar got detention again. He wasn't sure what happened but his heavy history book had been pushed off his table by a wayward elbow and his teacher had seemed to be on the fringes of sanity that week. He didn't even argue when she demanded he stay after school for disrupting the class.

He decided to sit close to the door again, and in an attempt to recreate that ideal seating arrangement, buried his head in his arms. He didn't hear anyone come up to his table but was too afraid to look up for some reason now that he'd put his head down. Once the students began excitedly whispering about the end of detention he slowly picked himself up and pretended to reach for his bag. He did this with a sense of internal embarrassment because no one was at his table with him, let alone the guy he'd been semi-stalking recently.

God he was such a weirdo for acting that way.

Everyone began rushing out after the teacher barked at them to leave and Edgar decided to wait a little while. He was sure his peers had the ability to read his mind and could sense his shame. Once all of the stragglers and the teacher had left he picked up his bag and headed out towards his house.

As he followed the mass of students towards the only double doors still left open in the building he saw several of his teammates loitering nearby. One of them started walking towards him while the other three lagged behind. Shit.

"Hey man, coach was pissed you missed out on practice today." Edgar shrugged. Every group had a political system, every group interacted in a specific way. As much as he would like for things not to be that way the stereotypes existed and were based on facts they saw every day. He knew that the school's star quarterback was an ass during school hours but he also knew that the guy had a sick grandmother to provide for and thus had an after school and a weekend job. The fronts everyone put up were stupid, yes, but for some odd reason necessary.

Everyone felt safer in a group.

"He said he wonders if maybe he should spend more time training our backup goalie instead of making accommodations for you." Before he could continue Edgar cut him off.

"I've never had so many detentions before at one time. It's a string of bad luck is all. If he's worried about my grades not being up to par then maybe he should spend more time training Lois and I'll be backup. Whatever makes him feel better about our chances of going to State." He kept walking, even as he passed the other three guys nervously looking away. He stepped outside and heard the double doors slam behind him with an odd sense of finality.

The odd interaction with his teammates left him so subdued that he completely forgot about stalking that Johnny guy, so when he literally bumped into him in the computer lab he dropped all of his things like a bumbling idiot while the guy cursed up a storm before stomping out. That left him feeling even more dejected. The first time Johnny talks to him and his peer accuses him of being an asshole.

He was hopeless. Such a fucking klutz.

Johnny's choice of words, not his. The next day in English his bag split and several of Edgar's text books slammed to the ground right in front of Johnny's table. The words had been half whispered and he looked up to see the other Hispanic semi glaring at him from his seat.

"Not usually." And it was true, it wasn't something anyone had ever accused him of being. Lately the only coordination he seemed to have was on the field during practice, which was lessened to a great degree now that he and Lois had traded places. "Just bad luck."

Edgar decided an apology was in order. Just before the other guy walked out as class ended he gathered up his books and caught up to him before he could leave the room.

"Hey, you're Johnny, right?" Edgar paused a moment to toss away his ruined backpack while the object of his recent obsession turned to look at him disdainfully. "I wanted to say sorry for nearly running you down yesterday. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going."

It was right then that something really odd happened. Everything seemed to go really quiet, like a switch had been flipped. Johnny stared at him in disbelief for two . . . three . . . four seconds before sizing him up with a smirk. He left, seemingly on the verge of laughter and Edgar stood rooted to the spot by a strange feeling of foreboding. When he turned around he got a sense of why. A good chunk of the class was still in the room and now looking at him like he'd grown a second head.

The ceiling of hell seemed to have been split right open and Edgar was sure that the vehement hatred on their faces was only a small sign of what was in store for him.

[]

Challenge: Popular!Edgar, Stupid!Edgar, and Stalker!Edgar

Word Count: 1900

Song: Headlock by Imogen Heap

Your life is over, Edgar.


End file.
